Care of the Reaper Man
by W.H. Woolhat
Summary: Susan and Lobsang have an 18-year-old daughter, and she makes a decision that affects the whole family in ways that didn't seem possible. (Set after 'Thief of Time)
1. Part 1: Music

Part 1 – Music 

                The human mind can start a lot of things it doesn't intend to, especially when considered collectively.  For example, the collective mind of humanity on the Discworld created a personification of what they thought Death should be: a seven-foot skeleton, dressed in a black cowl and carrying a scythe.  And they left it at that.  No thinking about what Death would do all day besides ushering souls into the next world, no thoughts for him, no hobbies.  In other words, humankind unknowingly created something, then left it to think for itself.  This does not often work out well.

                In the case of Death, he found things to do, thoughts to think, and hobbies to attempt.  The problem with this was, of course, that he couldn't really do much of anything, well, human.  Every time he tried, things went wrong.  Such was the case with his adopted daughter, Ysabell; his apprentice, Mort; and his eventual granddaughter, Susan.  Each time Death decided to venture out into the world of humans, someone got sucked into his place.  First it was Mort, then, after Mort's death, it was Susan.

                Needless to say, this did not make things easy for Susan most of the time.  She found herself different, an outcast.  Her mind was structured with logic from an early age, and, as a result, it wasn't always easy for her to comprehend the things that, being the granddaughter of Death, she was occasionally required to comprehend.  Still, she managed to do her grandfather's job when needed, although not without a certain amount of resentment.  In fact, she quite hated her grandfather most of the time.  She hated what he made her; she hated being his relation at all, despite the fact she usually made the most of the powers that came with the territory.

                Then, one day, she met someone.  A person, of sorts, who was like her.  Another outcast who wasn't always comfortable with his lot in life.  And she got to know him.  And time went on as it always does in those situations.

                "I'm worried about her, Lobsang."

                "Oh Susan, you're always worried about her.  You've been worrying since she was born.  Don't you think you could lighten up on it just a little now that she's almost eighteen?"

                "But she knows!"

                "Of course she knows!  Remember, you were the one who said you didn't want her to grow up thinking that the Hogfather and the Tooth Fairy were 'magic sparklies in the night'."

                "I mean she knows we're not telling her the whole story.  Yes, she knows about our…family oddities, but she doesn't know what that means for her!"

                "So tell her."

                "I can't very well do that, Lobsang."

                "And you know I can't, either.  Face it, Susan: either we tell her, or she finds out on her own."

                Quoth, the raven, sat on the windowsill and looked out at the dry field behind the house.  It was more interesting than the black landscapes he'd spent time in as of late, but still lacked anything edible, at least by his standards.  There were plenty of berries and dried seedpods, but, being a raven, Quoth had the occasional – or so he claimed – craving for an eyeball or two.  He began to dream about the days when there were more wars, or at least more local skirmishes, and was just about asleep when he was jarred out of his reverie by a loud twanging sound.  He jumped, ruffling his feathers and swiveling his eyes, trying to find the source of the sound.  Something small and hard bumped against his leg.  He looked down.

                SQUEAK, said the Death of Rats.

                "Oh, again, is she?" asked the raven, managing to focus one eye on the corner of the room, where there was a small, hard bed.  Someone had contrived to make it at least look comfortable by covering every square inch of its surface with pillows.

                In fact, the whole room was rather unusual, at least by Quoth's standards.  He was used to occult objects or a sort of black, foreboding ambience.  This room had neither.  The walls had been papered with so many pictures it was impossible to tell what color they were.  The only place that showed any hint of what color the room might be under the posters was a small square by the door where a multicolored symbol had been painted.  Quoth always thought it looked like a chicken foot inside a circle.

                Sitting amongst the pillows on the bed was a girl of about eighteen, with light brown hair and hazel eyes.  She wore no makeup and generally dressed in black, although that could have been a family trait.  She was rather plain except for the bone-white birthmark on her left shoulder, which she always displayed proudly by wearing sleeveless shirts no matter how much her mother objected.

                It was shaped like an hourglass.

                "Oh hell, she's playing the guitar again."

                Lobsang laid a hand on Susan's arm to stop her from going upstairs.

                "Susan, it's all right.  Let her be."

                Susan rounded on him, suddenly angry.

                "Let her be?  I've been letting her be for years!  Have you seen where it's gotten her?  Her hair is ridiculously long, she has seven piercings in one ear and fourteen in the other, she wears so much jewelry it's a wonder she doesn't fall over, and the only color in her entire wardrobe is black!  This is not how it was supposed to be!"

                Lobsang sighed.  He and Susan had discussed what the repercussions of their having any children might be before making any decisions.  They'd even talked to his mother and her grandfather about it.  Insofar as Lobsang had been able to tell, his mother was happy with the idea.  Susan's grandfather had seemed almost overjoyed, and probably would have jumped out of his skin if he'd had any.  His many failed attempts with Susan seemed to make him all the more eager to have another chance at being a part of someone's life.

                Which was part of the reason why Lobsang and Susan had decided to be honest with their daughter when she was born.  Well, not entirely honest, of course, that could cause problems, but at least marginally honest.  She knew about her great-grandfather, her grandmother, and her parents.  She knew what had happened to her grandparents on her mother's side, and she knew why.  The stories never seemed to strike her as odd, so, in a way, it had all worked out.

                Then there was a business with the guitar.  It had been an early birthday present from Susan's grandfather, and, much to her dismay, their daughter was almost a natural at playing it.  There had been the argument about how "no daughter of mine is going to play Music With Rocks In", but in the end the girl had won out.  Lobsang had secretly never minded the guitar to begin with.  He tried his best to stay out of the arguing that usually ensued when their daughter played the instrument, and was always trying to convince Susan that there wasn't any danger in playing music, even Music With Rocks In.

                Nevertheless, Susan was insistent that their daughter be brought up the right way, with a good education grounded in the kind of logic that would, being what she was, get her through the kind of life she would most likely lead.  There were also the bits about a healthy diet and regular exercise, but it turned out that Kiara was the kind of girl who was always extremely thin no matter what she ate or how active she was.

                This, too, was probably inherited.

                Overall, the girl wasn't much like either of her parents.  They say some things skip generations, and they would be right.

                Lobsang ended up being the one to mount the stairs.  Susan had insisted that one of them talk to Kiara about her "annoying habit of playing arbitrary tunes", and he had managed to convince her that he was the man for the job.

                The thing was, though…the thing really was that neither he nor Susan were around much.  Kiara had spent a lot of her childhood in the hands of relatives, causing no small amount of worry from Susan.  It just wasn't easy raising a child when you were constantly being called upon to help with, as it were, the family trade.

                He stuck his head into his daughter's room after a failed attempt at knocking.  The girl was sitting on her bed, playing the guitar loudly and singing about alternate paths and percussive instruments.  Lobsang hardly understood half of what she played, but the fact remained that she was good.

                "Um, Kiara?  Honey?" he said, trying to be heard over the music.  The girl didn't respond.

                SQUEAK, said the Death of Rats loudly from the windowsill.  Kiara stopped playing and looked up.

                "Oh, hi Dad!  Sorry, didn't see you there."  She laid the guitar aside and waved Lobsang into the room, "What's up?"

                Lobsang shut the door behind him and carefully lowered himself into one of the many beanbag chairs that were scattered around the room.  He'd never quite gotten the hang of them, even in the five years Kiara had them.

                "It's your mother again," he said, deciding to get right to the point, "She's not happy about the…you know, the music."

                Kiara blew out a breath, causing a few stray hairs to flutter.  She hadn't inherited her mother's self-styling hair, but if she had it would have betrayed her frustration at that moment even more plainly than her facial expression.

                "Susan is never happy about anything I do," she pointed out testily, using her mother's first name as she often did when she was angry.  In her opinion, people who treated their children like projects instead of offspring deserved to be treated like strangers instead of parents.

                "Now Kiara…" Lobsang began, but the girl cut him off.

                "Don't 'now' me, Dad.  You know what I'm saying is true.  Ever since I can remember, Susan's been trying to make me like her.  I'm supposed to be her double or something.  It's not even like she acts like I'm her daughter; it's like I'm her protégé," Kiara spat the word angrily, "I'll be eighteen next month.  Don't you think it's time that she stopped worrying about me?"

                Lobsang flinched at the way his daughter made her opinion sound like it had fangs.  He couldn't disagree with her, though.  He had said almost the exact same thing to Susan earlier, although it didn't appear that she'd listened much.

                "I'm leaving, Dad," Kiara said suddenly.

                "What?" Lobsang asked, startled.  The Death of Rats looked up from polishing his tiny scythe on the edge of his cowl.

                SQUEAK?

                "I'm leaving.  As soon as I turn eighteen."

                "But…" Lobsang sought for words, "Where will you go?"

                Kiara shrugged.  "Dunno.  Ankh-Morpork, or Quirm…maybe Sto Lat."

                "Why?" her father asked the question, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

                "Because of Susan.  Because of this," Kiara held up the guitar gingerly, almost lovingly, by the neck, "I could live with it until she started hating me for this, Dad.  She hates me because it's from him, and I can handle it better than she ever could.  And it's the only thing he's ever made that actually works the way it's supposed to.  Susan never got anything like that.  She hates me because he did this for me and not for her.  Because she could never get along with having him be what he was.  And don't look at me like that, Dad, you know I'm right."

                Lobsang sighed.  There was no denying it; she was right.  Susan hadn't said it, but it had been obvious when the guitar arrived – its black bulk gleaming and a conspicuous skull-and-crossbones at the top between the rows of tuning pegs – that she'd thought it was going to be another of her grandfathers follies, another thing to blame him for.  Instead it had turned out to be beautiful, and there was no way Susan, with her structured mind, could hate her grandfather for making a thing of beauty.  So she hated him for giving to her daughter.  Somehow, logical Susan, Duchess of Sto Helit, was jealous of her own child.

                "All right," Lobsang said finally, getting up, "But do me a favor please?"

                "What's that?" Kiara asked, softening a bit.

                "When you leave, call her 'mom', okay?"

                Albert hadn't been expecting to see the skeletal rat that day.  As a matter of fact, he didn't usually expect it; he took it for granted that the little rodent was almost always around.  So it surprised him when, after spending a considerable amount of time with the Master's granddaughter, the Death of Rats showed up suddenly in the kitchen one morning, or at least as close to morning as it ever got in Death's domain.

                SQUEAK! he began urgently, then continued for several minutes.

                "That's how it's going to be, is it?" Albert said when he'd finished.

                "That's exactly how it's going to be," said Quoth, who was still fulfilling his role as a mode of transport for the Death of Rats, "She says she's out of there as soon as she's eighteen."

                "Bugger," swore Albert under his breath, pushing the last of his breakfast into his mouth and standing up, "Well don't just sit there, look after her!  I'll have a talk with the Master."

                The day came sooner than Lobsang expected.  True, Kiara's announcement had come only a month before her birthday, but the time – which Lobsang was quite familiar with the nature of – seemed to fly by.

                On her eighteenth birthday, at exactly the time she was born, Kiara came down the stairs with a suitcase in one hand and the guitar, in its bag, slung on her back.  She approached Susan first.

                "I'm leaving now, mom," she said.  Lobsang noticed the obvious effort it took for the girl to use the word "mom", but also how deliberately she pronounced it so that it contained no trace of a capital letter.

                Susan's expression was about as affectionate as a brick wall.  Her features remained glued in place as she said, "Don't get hurt.  And remember our talk about hygiene."

                Kiara bit her lip to avoid spitting out a sarcastic reply.  Instead, she turned to her father and gave him a hug.

                "I love you, Dad," she said, meaning it but at the same time knowing how much it would bother Susan.

                "I love you, too, honey," Lobsang returned, also knowing that Susan wouldn't be happy about the gesture once the girl was gone, "Write when you can, okay?"

                "That or I'll send the rat," Kiara pulled out of the hug and grinned.  The Death of Rats was already perched on top of her suitcase, and the raven was watching from the doorway.  As Kiara turned to go, Lobsang stood up.

                "Kiara?" he said.

                The girl turned.  "Yeah?"

                Lobsang hesitated.  He glanced at Susan, who knew what he was thinking and was shaking her head, a horrible frown on her face.  He sighed.

                "Just be careful."

                Kiara rolled her eyes.  "I will, Dad."  And with that, she was gone.

                Death sat in his study, spinning in the chair.  It wasn't something that he ever recalled doing, but he did it now because he had a feeling.  An unfamiliar feeling, but a good one.

                WHAT IS IT CALLED WHEN YOU KNOW SOMETHING IS COMING AND YOU GET ALL JUMPY INSIDE? he asked Albert.

                "Er, excitement, Master?" Albert hazarded.

                THAT'S IT.  EXCITEMENT.  I AM EXCITEMENT, ALBERT.

          "She's just on a trip, Master," Albert pointed out, "Girls her age don't think like that."

                Death stopped spinning and gave Albert a critical look, causing the old man to shudder.

                REALLY ALBERT, I'D THINK YOU'D GIVE ME A LITTLE MORE CREDIT, he said, YOU KNOW THAT MY MEMORY WORKS BOTH WAYS.  I NEVER FORGET YESTERDAY AND CAN FORESEE AT LEAST A BIT OF TOMORROW.

                As soon as the words were out, a thin young woman of about eighteen with light brown hair and hazel eyes appeared in the doorway to the study.

                "Foresee that," she said with a grin.

                It is not easy to take Death by surprise, especially since one normally has to die first before seeing him.  And since Death's job is to be up on all recent deaths, whether they've already happened or are going to happen very soon, people who are already dead don't have a chance to really throw him off.  (Of course, there was the case of Mad Morrie the Wizard, who stripped naked and painted himself orange just before he passed on, but the color was hard to see and Death wasn't particularly shocked by anatomy in any case.)  But, being related to Time had its advantages.

                SQUEAK, the Death of Rats grumbled.  He scuttled over to Death's desk and climbed up.  The trip had made him feel queasy, despite the fact that he didn't technically have anything to feel queasy with.

                "Hey Albert," Kiara said, setting her suitcase down and using it as a chair, "Hey great-granddad."

                ER, HELLO, Death replied, trying not to sound surprised.  He was all too glad that his face couldn't give him away at the moment.  He had been planning the sort of welcome found in storybooks and not at all expecting the girl to turn up at his house until several weeks later.  I WAS HOPING I'D BE ABLE TO WELCOME YOU MORE…WARMLY?

                The girl shrugged.  "Don't worry about it.  Time means nothing here.  Couple that with the fact that I'm not exactly your typical slave to the clock and it can really cause confusion.  I remember the time back in high school where I was early for class and getting a drink down the hall at the same time," she grinned, "That was a lot of fun."

                "Not her mother, is she?" said Quoth, perching on the edge of the bookshelf in order to feel more occult.

                I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN QUIRM?

                Kiara nodded.  "I was.  Technically, though, I won't be there until Grune on account of the fact that I also spent a few weeks in Ankh-Morpork and a day on the Sto plains."

                A DAY?

                "Cabbage gets boring fast," the girl got up, hefting her suitcase, "So can I stay here for a while?"

                Albert watched Death, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

                ALL RIGHT, Death agreed, BUT WHAT ABOUT YOUR PARENTS?

                Kiara raised an eyebrow, and with out a word she turned and left the room.

                Death felt very confused.  He had a hard enough time understanding the human mind as it was.  The mind of a teenager was even more unfamiliar.  It tended to snap at your ankles when you tried to cross it.

                Lobsang watched Susan pace the length of the dining room.  She hadn't been happy with their daughter's leaving, but on the other hand she knew that there was nothing she could do.  She had been tearing herself up about it, saying little but always being confrontational when she did talk.  Lobsang found it was better to just leave her alone most of the time, although he could feel her watching him.  It seemed like she was always watching him, no matter whether he was in the house or out somewhere.

                "Susan," Lobsang sat forward slowly, "You do know she went on her own?"

                Susan continued pacing, her eyes fixed deliberately on the floor.  "Did she?"

                "She did," Lobsang nodded, ignoring the accusatory edge in Susan's voice, "She said she was going and that was it."

                Susan didn't look up.

                "She said maybe she'd go to Ankh-Morpork or Quirm," Lobsang continued, more to fill the silence than to explain, "Those are good cities, Susan, and besides we –"

                STOP IT, LOBSANG.

                Lobsang's next words died in his throat.  It took him several minutes to find his voice and, when he did, he realized he was angry.

                "Don't use the voice on me," he said softly, "We agreed when we got married…"

                "We agreed not to meddle," Susan retorted through clenched teeth, "And then she came along and –"

                "We discussed her enough before she 'came along'," Lobsang reminded her.

                "But we tried to make it work!" Susan exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, "We honestly thought it wouldn't cause problems.  I let my grandfather see her, and your mother visited all the time when Kiara was younger…what were we doing?  It would have been better for her not to know, to be brought up ignorant of it, like a normal child, like…"

                "Like you," the words escaped before Lobsang could stop them.

                Susan looked up at him, surprised.  "Yes, yes like me," she replied, "Exactly."

                "And you know what happened to you when you didn't know what was going on," Lobsang pointed out, knowing he was digging himself in deeper but feeling that this needed to be said, "I thought you always taught your students about the occult side of things because of that."

                "I did," Susan snapped, "But they weren't my children.  They were…normal.  There was no way they'd be able to go out into the world and do something about it.  I just wanted them to know what was out there."

                "And you think Kiara shouldn't know because of her powers?" Lobsang asked, "Susan, she's going to find out sooner or later.  We've discussed this.  And what's going to happen when she does?  She's not going to be happy with us for making it seem like we'd told her everything, is she?"

                "How can we tell her when we're not even sure exactly what she can do?" Susan demanded, "You know as well as I do that there's no way to tell which powers she inherited until she starts showing signs, and now that she's gone, we're not going to know when the signs show up!  She might even be able to do things that neither of us can even imagine.  Think about it…Death and Time together.  What might happen?"

                Lobsang knew he'd heard this all eighteen years before.  He couldn't believe that Susan was having the same doubts now that she'd had then.  Why have the child in the first place if you were only going to worry about things like that for the rest of your life?  It was obvious that certain, more prominent powers would be passed on.  He was about to open his mouth to say something further when there was a knock on the door.  Susan opened it.

                "Susan Sto Helit Ludd?" asked the young, squat figure at the door.  He was wearing a Watch uniform.

                "Yes?"

                "I'm here about your daughter."

                Kiara looked around.  Death had given her an empty bedroom to stay in.  It looked as though he had been preparing it for someone, probably her.  He seemed unnaturally excited, which wasn't hard considering he usually didn't have much to be excited about.  But why her?  Why now?  Was it because she was eighteen and finally freeing herself from her parents' grasp?

                Susan's grasp, Kiara corrected herself.  Susan had always been the one to keep things separate.   It was clear to Kiara that her father had wanted to broaden her horizons a lot more than Susan had.  Sure, Susan had dragged the bogeymen out of the closet and beat them over the head with the fireplace poker.  Sure, she'd introduced Kiara to the Tooth Fairy.  She'd even invited Death over for Hogswatch once, and Kiara had seen how hard that had been for her.  But she hadn't been open.  She hadn't ever talked about the implications of being a cross between Death and Time.  And the difference between knowing and not knowing was the difference between life and lack thereof.

                Kiara ran her hand over the smooth, black surface of the dressing table.  She put her bag on the floor and pulled out a few personal items, including a rather dusty picture frame containing a photo of her and her father visiting her Grandmother Time, then arranged them on the table.  She went about personalizing the rest of the room as best she could with what little she had and was nearly done when a voice came from the doorway.

                WHY ISN'T YOUR MOTHER IN THIS PICTURE?

                Kiara looked up to find Death standing with the photo held carefully in his bony hands.

                "She stayed home," she shrugged, "I don't remember why."

                SO IT DOESN'T RUN IN THE FAMILY, THEN?  THE MEMORY?

                "Nope," Kiara shook her head and sat down on the edge of the bed.  She gestured for Death to sit down, as well.  There was an awkward moment of incomprehension.  Death wasn't used to being welcomed.

                SQUEAK, said the Death of Rats pointedly from atop the wardrobe.  Death started a bit and sat down gingerly next to his great-granddaughter on the bed.

                "There are a lot of things from the Death side of the family that I didn't inherit," Kiara told him, "Like the memory, and the voice.  I can do a pretty good imitation of it…nearly gave Susan a heart attack the first time I did it.  She thought I'd got it, too.  She probably thought I'd use it on her or something.  I don't think I've got the habit of being pulled into the 'family business' when things go wrong, either.  I guess after a couple of generations it starts to leave the gene pool."

                AH, said Death.  He thought for a moment.  He didn't know much about genetics or families, but he knew that there was a certain way that things should be.  PEOPLE USUALLY CALL THEIR MOTHER 'MOM' OR 'MUM' OR SOMETHING ALONG THAT LINE.  YET YOU CALL YOURS 'SUSAN'.  WHY IS THAT?

                Kiara sighed.  Of all the things Death understood about humanity, he had to understand family.  Of course he did, he had one…in a manner of speaking anyway.  If ever a family could be called dysfunctional, it was the one Death had made himself a part of.

                "I'm not most people," was all she said.  In the ensuing silence, Albert appeared in the doorway.

                "Er, can I get you anything, Master?" he asked, "Or the young lady?"  He wasn't used to having a girl in the house, and, despite his past experiences with both Ysabell and Susan, was unsure how to act around one.

                A CUP OF TEA, ALBERT.

"I'll have a glass of red wine, if there is any," Kiara requested.

                "Red wine?" Albert asked in surprise.

                "If that's all right, yes," the girl nodded.

                Albert's eyebrows went up, but he left without saying anything further.

                Death looked at Kiara curiously for a moment.

                YOU MOST CERTAINLY ARE NOT YOUR MOTHER, he said finally.

                "Why does everyone compare me to Susan?" Kiara asked hotly, standing up and stalking to the other side of the room, her back to Death, "It's obvious from first glance that I'm not like her.  I don't even get along with her!  If I was like her, how would I stand myself?"  She shook her head, taking a deep breath to steady herself, "I'm not Susan.  I'm not my father, either, although I guess you could say I have some of him in me.  But I'm…me.  That's who I am, and that's all I am.  And I can live with that, I really can.  Susan…she can't.  She can't accept what I've turned out to be, and she won't tell me what I was born with.  I found out, oh yes, I found out, but I could have known years ago.  And now she gets to learn…what it's like…to be lost…" Kiara's words were lost in a stream of tears as she collapsed on her knees, sobbing.  Self-assurance was a front you could only keep up for so long, especially when what it hid was anger.

                The Death of Rats hopped off the wardrobe, scuttled over to Kiara, and sat on her knee, attempting to squeak in a soothing manner.  

Death sat in shock.  He understood despair.  He understood sadness.  He even understood the feeling of being completely and utterly at a loss, but what he didn't understand was consolation or compassion.  You never could give anybody any reassurance when they were dead.  Most of them didn't deserve it or just wanted to know how much they could finish or take with them, and all Death could say was, NOTHING.  THIS IS THE END.  I AM THE FINAL JUDGEMENT.

                After a moment, Death got up from the bed and quietly left the room.

                Albert shuffled around the kitchen, making the tea and muttering to himself.  None of this would turn out right, he knew.  He'd known it since the day the rat had shown up and told him Kiara was striking out on her own.  Something would happen.  Death would get all sappy over people again, or the girl's parents would come looking for her, and that would be the end of it.   Either way, it wouldn't be pretty.

                "Why the girl even had to come here is beyond me," he shook his head, looking around for anything even resembling wine.  He hadn't seen a good bottle of wine since…well, since the time he'd gone back to Unseen University.  The wizards, apparently, had a use for it.  But Death hardly ever drank anything, much less wine.  And yet, there was a bottle, fresh by the look of it, over in the corner by the stove.  Albert didn't have to ask himself where it had come from.  He uncorked it and poured a glass carefully, then set the glass in a clear spot on the tea tray and headed out of the kitchen.

                "That worked out well," said Quoth from the windowsill, scratching himself with a clawed foot, "I see you're not telling him yet."

                Kiara glared at the raven over her shoulder.  "Shut up," she whispered darkly.  She stood up and wiped her red-rimmed eyes with the back of her hand.  The Death of Rats squeaked in alarm and clung to the leg of the girl's pants.  Once he had a firm enough grip, he scurried up to her shoulder.

                SQUEAK, he pointed out, gesturing towards the bed with his tiny scythe.

                "I noticed," Kiara nodded, "He doesn't know how to, does he?"

                The Death of Rats shook his head.  SQUEAK.

                "I didn't think so."

                The guitar was sitting in the corner where Kiara had left it.  She walked over and ran her hand over the neck, realizing how hard her fingertips were becoming.  She played so much that she'd lost the feeling in the tips of all the fingers on her left hand except her thumb.  She had never loved anything more than that guitar and the music she made with it.

                Kiara looked towards the doorway.  It yawned into the blackness of the empty hallway beyond, and she felt a tug.

_                "I wonder…" she murmured, picking up the guitar and slinging it on her back.  The Death of Rats jumped clear of the strap and landed on the bed.  He could feel that something very human was about to happen, and he didn't want to be around when it did._


	2. Part 2: Love

**Part 2 – Love**

                "My daughter?" Susan demanded, suddenly feeling very vulnerable, "What about my daughter?"

                Death was in his study, holding his cup of tea but not drinking it.  He looked through the steam at the wine that was still sitting in its ornate crystal glass on the tea tray.  The light from the window penetrated it, making it glow red.  As Death looked, he thought he could just make out the shape of an hourglass, bone-white against the redness.  It floated in the middle of the wine, motionless except for slight rippling with the movements of the liquid.

                "Hey great-granddad?"

                The image faded at the sound of the voice.  Death looked up to find Kiara standing the doorway with the guitar slung on her back.

                YES?

                Kiara entered the room and perched herself on the edge of Death's desk.

                "You gave this to me," she said quietly, running a hand along the neck of the guitar, "I thought you might want to hear me play a little?"

                Death set his tea down and looked at Kiara critically.  She didn't flinch at his stare like Albert did; either it was an inherited trait or her soul was stronger than Death had thought.  He wasn't quite sure what being brought up by Susan would do to someone.  He had been half afraid that Kiara would turn out somewhat like Ysabell.  But instead of being a snobby, headstrong loafer like her grandmother – or even a logical, headstrong cynic like Susan – the girl seemed to be something different entirely.  Headstrong, yes.  That went with teenagers.  But there was a range of emotion there, as well, one that Death had never seen with Susan, or indeed with most of the humans he encountered.

                And she cared.  Death was not used to people caring about him in any way.  Albert only intervened when things happened because he didn't want there to be a mess to clean up.  It was strange to suddenly have someone who actually wanted to spend time in his house and share things with him.  Still, he remained distant when he answered.

                GO AHEAD.  He leaned back with his tea and listened.

                Fifteen minutes later the tea was still untouched and Death was staring at his great-granddaughter with a look he usually reserved for his cornfields.  He had heard people learning to play the guitar before, and he knew that it usually took a while to get anything right.  Yet Kiara had only had the guitar for a few weeks and the music she made come out of it was unlike anything Death had ever heard, even during the whole Music With Rocks In fiasco.

                WHAT WAS THAT LAST ONE? he asked, THAT WAS AMAZING.

                "What, 'Discussions'?" Kiara shrugged, "It's not mine, I just like it."

                I THINK IT'S WHAT HUMANS CALL BEAUTIFUL.

                "Yeah, well, that's why I play," Kiara got up and wandered over to the corner, looking vaguely at the model of the Discworld that sat there.  Suddenly, something seemed to occur to her and she turned around, took the glass of wine from the tea tray, and left the room.

                Death sat for a moment, also looking at the model of the Discworld.  Then he got up and walked slowly over to it, wondering.  After peering at a particular spot for several minutes, he left his study and headed for the hall of lifetimers.

                The door's usual ominous creak sounded when he opened it, but Death didn't notice.  He made his way purposefully down the rows of hourglasses, listening to the hisses and pops but not really hearing them.  Soon, he found what he was looking for.

                A lifetimer sat on the shelf, the only one not making any sound.  A single grain of sand sat in the top bulb, looking ready to fall but not actually doing so.  Death shook the hourglass.  Nothing happened.  The sand remained stationary, as if it were glued in place by something beyond his control.  Which, essentially, it was.

                SO SHE IS, he said to himself, replacing the hourglass and stepping back, HMM…

                Kiara sat in the library, an open book balanced on her knees.  It hadn't taken her long to find the five books she wanted, and now she was looking through them.  The ones for her mother's parents weren't very long, although they got interesting around the time that both of them had been in Death's domain.  Susan's, naturally, wasn't very exciting until later on.  Kiara didn't linger too long on her mother's life, however.  She set that book aside and skimmed through her father's.  

A wet blotch suddenly spread in a circle in the center of the page and Kiara remembered what she had come to the library to do.  She sniffed and wiped her eyes, then carefully picked up her own book.  She cradled it for a moment before opening to where she thought the most recent page would be.

                "Just as I thought," she muttered after she read the last sentence.  She shook her head and tapped the page thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling and considering her options.

                SUQEAK!  The Death of Rats scurried across the floor and up to Kiara's knee, waving his tiny scythe and squeaking rapidly.

                "Okay, okay, slow down.  Now, what?" Kiara closed the book but kept her finger in it to mark the spot.

                The Death of Rats put his skull in his paws and did his equivalent of taking a deep breath, then repeated himself.

                "Oh no," Kiara sighed, "Who told him?"

                SQUEAK.

                "Well, I suppose it was inevitable.  I probably should have just said something when I showed up, but it would have gotten back to Susan and gods know how that would have played out." 

                A minute or so later, Death entered the library, found Kiara, and held up the hourglass.  The one tiny grain of sand glittered.

                WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME? he asked.

                "Mrs. Ludd, I hate to have to be the one to tell you this," the watchman ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, "But your daughter is dead."

                Kiara stood and faced Death, and shrugged.

                "What does it matter?"

                BUT YOU'RE NEARLY DEAD.

                "Oh, out there maybe," Kiara waved a hand and shook her head bitterly, "Out there and three weeks from now."

                BUT…HOW?  HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?

                Kiara raised an eyebrow and gave Death a puzzled look.  "I thought you'd seen everything."

                SO HAD I.

                "Basically, I manipulated time," Kiara explained, "My parents don't think I know how.  But if they'd just told me earlier on what I could do, I might have made it back here with more than a shred of life left."

                Lobsang's chair clattered to the floor.  Susan was glaring at the watchman as if daring him to be joking.  Then, suddenly, she took a step back and clutched the edge of the table.

                "She's…dead?" she gasped.  Lobsang saw the lines on her cheek go white while the rest of her face flushed.

                The watchman nodded gravely.  "I'm sorry, ma'am."

                Lobsang helped Susan into a chair.  "What happened?" he asked the watchman, "And please, sit down."

                The watchman perched on the edge of a chair, his eyes flickering towards the door as if he wanted to make as quick a getaway as possible when this was over.

                "She was in Quirm," he began, "I don't really know exactly how it happened, but she was by the side of the road and someone shot her."

                "What?" exclaimed Susan.

                The watchman held up his hands.  "We're not sure why yet, or even if it was intentional.  All we know is that she was found with an arrow in her back."

                Lobsang's knuckles whitened as he gripped the back of Susan's chair.  This couldn't be happening.  In fact, this wasn't happening, at least the way the watchman was telling it.  Lobsang knew how time worked, and there was definitely something wrong.

                "Either way ma'am," the watchman said to Susan, "I'm sorry."  He was out the door before either Susan or Lobsang could say anything else.

                "She's not dead," Lobsang said suddenly.

                Susan looked at him wearily and shook her head.  "Please, Lobsang."

                "I'm serious, Susan, she's not dead.  Something here doesn't fit," Lobsang leaned back against the table and looked at the ceiling, "I think we need to go see your grandfather."

                Death tried to put together what Kiara was telling him.

                YOU ALTERED TIME… he said slowly.

                "Yes," Kiara nodded.

                WHY, EXACTLY?

                "Well, for gods' sake, great-granddad, I'm only 18; I don't want to be dead yet."

                AND YET YOU CAME HERE.

                Kiara shrugged.  "If I went home I'd only have to deal with Susan again, and that's one of the reasons I left home."

                "Isn't that nice to know," said Susan from behind her.

                Kiara looked round.  Her reaction to seeing her mother standing in the middle of the library, legs apart, with one hand on her hip was a complete lack of emotion.  Death was impressed; he had expected more anger. 

                The girl's first question was, "Is Dad here?"

                Lobsang stepped out from behind the bookshelves.  "Yes, honey, I'm here.  We, er, we know what happened."

                To Death's surprise, Kiara's eyes filled with tears.

                "Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, "All those years you let me think that heredity didn't count for anything more than a birthmark and passion for black.  And now this!"  She snatched the hourglass from Death's hand and held it in front of Susan's face.  Light caught the last of Kiara's life and threw it into relief.

                Lobsang put a hand on Kiara's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down.  "Tell us what happened, Kiara."

                Kiara softened a bit at her father's touch.  She sat down next to the books she'd pulled from the shelves and set the hourglass on top of the pile.

                "I was in Quirm and realized I didn't have enough money to get a coach anywhere else.  So I got the brilliant idea to sit by the side of the road and play my guitar.  That actually went along fine for a while; I made almost four dollars.  Then somebody must have decided they didn't like my playing and the next thing I knew I was facedown on the gutter with an arrow in my back, this close to being dead.  Only one thought went through my head, and that was –"

                'I NEED TO VISIT HIM BEFORE HE VISITS ME,' Death finished.  Kiara and Susan looked at him in surprise.

                "You knew?" Susan demanded hotly, "You knew she would be dead and you didn't say anything?"

                ON THE CONTRARY, SUSAN.  YOUR DAUGHTER IS NOT DEAD, MERELY ALMOST SO.

                "But you know everything!  I've done your job; I've seen!"

                Death shook his head slowly.  THIS I COULD NOT FORSEE.  IT IS BEYOND MY POWER.  I AM ONLY THE FINAL JUDGEMENT WHEN THE NORMAL RULES OF TIME APPLY.

                Lobsang knew this was where he came in.  When Time herself was absent, he always felt that the responsibility of the powers rested on him.

                "The rules of time aren't hard for Kiara to alter," he admitted, "If she made it back on the brink of death, then it may be easier for her than we thought."

                Death nodded, seeming to understand.  Susan, however, was watching the exchange with some suspicion.  She looked at Kiara for another moment before saying anything.

                "Why did you come here, of all places?" she wanted to know.

                Kiara turned and gave Susan a long, slow look.  Susan tried to break the eye contact, but found herself drawn into the stare, brought behind her daughter's eyes and into a place she couldn't understand.  It was worse than the first time she'd ever seen into Death's eyes.  In Kiara's mind there was the strength she usually showed, the outside of her, but there were also the things the strength hid: the love for the music she played, an intense bond with her father, and pain.  It was a pain of detachment, of alienation, a pain that, Susan realized, she caused.

                "Because he knows," Kiara said suddenly, her voice low, "He understands.  He wouldn't have been able to make the guitar otherwise.  And you hate him for it."  She stood up, advancing slowly towards Susan as she talked, "You hate him because he somehow understands me.  You hate him because I relate to him better than I do to you, and I've gotten along with him better than you ever did.  I left because of that.  I'm dead because of you."

                "That's enough, Kiara," Lobsang said quietly.  Susan found herself trembling as her daughter backed off, but whether it was with fear or anger she couldn't tell.  

Tears were streaming down Kiara's cheeks.  Lobsang stepped forward and Kiara allowed him to hug her.

                Susan went over to Death and glared up at him.  "Can I have a word with you?"

                They walked away down the aisles, the scratchy whispers of lives writing themselves the only sound above Kiara's quiet crying.

                "What can you do for her?" Susan demanded once they were out of earshot of the girl.

                Death seemed surprised.  ME?

                "Don't play dumb with me, grandfather, I know you can do something."

                YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS IS A MATTER OF TIME.

                "Yes," Susan nodded.

                AND THAT, IF SHE GOES BACK INTO THE WORLD NOW, SHE WILL ONLY BE ALIVE FOR THREE MORE WEEKS.  THAT'S HOW FAR BACK SHE BROUGHT HERSELF.

                "Yes," Susan said again, beginning to get impatient.

                SHE WILL NOT BE ABLE TO USE HER POWER TO HER ADVANTAGE A SECOND TIME.

                Susan sighed.  "Yes, grandfather, I know.  But what other options does she have that you're not telling me about?"

                I SEE, Death nodded, WELL, TIME IS RATHER BEYOND ME.  I CAN DO NOTHING MORE FOR HER THAN I DID FOR YOUR PARENTS.

                Susan stiffened.  She'd seen the fight between Death and Mort when she was a teenager and it hadn't been something she wanted to remember.  However, another eighteen years for Kiara wasn't as bad as all that…

                OR SHE COULD STAY HERE.

                This caught Susan off-guard.  "What?"

                SHE WOULDN'T DIE, HERE.

                "I know that," Susan snapped.  But her mind was racing.  Her daughter?  Live here, in Death's house?  What kind of life would that be?

                I AM SIMPLY PRESENTING THE OPTIONS AS THEY STAND.  IT IS NOT MY CHOICE TO MAKE.  NOR IS IT YOURS.

                "What?" Susan exclaimed, taken aback, "She's my daughter!"

                YES.  AND IF YOU MAKE THIS DECISION FOR HER, YOU WILL LOSE HER.  THE GIRL FEELS WITHOUT LOGIC OR ANYTHING TO GET IN THE WAY, SUSAN.  LET HER DO THAT.

                Susan sighed.  What could she say?  Death was right.  She had seen Kiara's eyes.  Like it or not, Susan would have to let her make the decision on her own.

                They came back to where Lobsang was now sitting on a bench with Kiara, his arm still around her shoulders and the girl dried the last of her tears.  She stood up as Susan and Death approached.

                "Well?" she asked quietly.

                Susan nodded.  "It's time to make a decision."

                Kiara stood and listened patiently to her options.  Then she turned to Susan and said, plainly, "I'm staying."

                Lobsang's intake of breath was audible, but to his surprise and Kiara's, Susan did not object.  Instead, she just nodded, as if this was what she had been expecting to hear.

                "Well, we'll miss you," she said, a bit woodenly.  Lobsang was the only one who could tell she was trying not to cry.

                "It's not like you can't visit," Kiara pointed out, picking up the hourglass once again and looking at it.

                "It won't be the same not having you around the house," Lobsang elaborated, seeing that Susan was not in the condition to do so herself.

                Kiara grinned a little.  "It'll be quieter for a start."

                Lobsang laughed sadly.  Kiara hugged him, not wanting to see him cry.

                "I love you, Dad."

                Lobsang returned the hug.  "I love you, too, honey."

                Kiara sighed, then turned to Susan.  Silently, mother and daughter looked at each other, then reached a mutual decision and shared a long hug.  Then Susan said something that she found very hard to say aloud.

                "I love you, Kiara."

                This didn't take Kiara by surprise.  In fact, somehow, she'd know it, but there was something about it being voiced that undid the damage of years.

                "I love you, Mom."

                A new morning dawned on Death's domain, at least theoretically.  Albert had been awake for hours already, having gotten sick of sleeping.  He was currently frying his breakfast and was surprised to hear a set of footsteps on the stairs.

                "Morning Albert!" Kiara said brightly, bouncing in with her guitar slung on her back, as usual, "Eggs or sausage this morning?"

                "Er, both actually," Albert replied, stirring the globular contents of the frying pan vigorously.

                Kiara looked over his shoulder at the bubbling, yellow-brown mass.  "I think I'll have something else, thanks."  She was out the door before Albert could say another word.

                Outside, Kiara wandered past the stable and soon found herself in the orchard.  The trees were laden with the usual glossy black apples.  She picked one and sat down with her guitar in her lap.  The apple shined in the light of the landscape and Kiara wondered…

                She broke it open on the rock and three black seeds rolled out.  It was hollow inside.

                But then again, so was the guitar.

                Some time later, Kiara looked up from playing to find Death standing a few yards away, leaning on his scythe and watching her.

                'ANKH-MORPORK MORNING'? he inquired.

                Kiara nodded.  "It's my favorite."

                There was a moment of silence.  Then,

                DO YOU REGRET IT, STAYING HERE?

                Kiara thought about this and shook her head.  "No."

                WHY NOT?

                The girl shrugged.  "Because you get it.  You're the only one I know who takes a genuine interest in things and then tries to get them right."

                Death marveled at this.  Those were the precise reasons that Susan had always been so frustrated with him.

                EVEN THOUGH IT DOESN'T ALWAYS WORK?

                "Yeah," Kiara nodded, "At least you make the effort.  That's more than I can say for most people."

                She strummed a few chords, and Death thought.  There was always someone, wasn't there, someone in the world who was supposed to care about you and what you did.  Up until now, he'd always thought that rule didn't apply to him.

                He looked at the apple tree for a minute, then reached up and picked one of the apples, looking it over critically.  He'd made the guitar, hadn't he?  If he'd gotten one thing right, he could get two.  He handed the apple to Kiara.

                "Um, thanks."  The girl took it and looked at it critically.

                SQUEAK, the Death of Rats prompted from the tree, where he had landed with Quoth a few minutes earlier.  Kiara shrugged and took a bite out of the apple.  She chewed slowly and then, finally, swallowed.  The fruit was black all the way through, but it was an apple all the same.  She played a few more chords thoughtfully, then looked up at Death.

                "Could you do that again?" she asked.

                "Susan Sto Helit Ludd?"

                "Yes?"

                "Delivery."

                "Thank you."

                Susan closed the door and looked at the box in her hands.  It was heavy, and weatherworn as if it had come a long way.  She set it on the table and opened it slowly, trying to think what it could be.

                Inside, under old papers, there were several dozen glossy black apples.  And Susan Sto Helit Ludd, emotionless and logical, stood there staring at them.  And Susan Sto Helit Ludd cried.

THE END


End file.
